


Ticket to Ride

by Phantom_Serenity



Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluffy, TW: Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-05
Updated: 2014-07-21
Packaged: 2018-01-11 07:25:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1170293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phantom_Serenity/pseuds/Phantom_Serenity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While on the tube one afternoon, the jerky motions cause Amelia's coffee to spill and her body to bump into a gentleman... who will change her life if she lets him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The train was crowded this afternoon. I had really hoped that I could snag a seat somewhere, but there was no room anywhere. Even standing room was rather limited. I managed to get a spot right by a pole, leaning against it with a sigh. Just the end of another long day.  
As I sip my coffee, I take a moment to scan the crowd. So many people on their way home, looking forward to a hot dinner and a warm fire. The doors open and a stream of people flow out. Unfortunately, it’s mostly ones who were standing, so the few seats that open up are quickly snapped up before I can budge. ‘Oh well,’ I think to myself wearily as the doors slide shut. I only have a few more stops till we reach mine. I can tough it out.  
Suddenly the train lurches forward, jerking my body. I fall against a hard body with a gasp. “Oh I’m sorry!” I blurt out as I look up… and up… and up. Finally I’m able to find the face attached to this tall body. I look up into the most amazing blue-green eyes I’ve ever seen. “Quite alright, darling,” the man says with a grin, “It’s bound to happen during rush hour.” I know my jaw is hanging open like an idiot, but all my brain is registering is ‘HOLY CRAP I JUST FELL ONTO TOM HIDDLESTON ON THE TRAIN!’  
He’s still smiling down at me when the train jerks to a stop, causing him to stumble and bump into me. I manage to hold my coffee away from my body to keep it from spilling all over my clothes and his. But it still splashes out, coating my hand and landing on the carpeted floor with a few drops hitting my shoes. “Oh no, darling, I’m so sorry,” he says. I smile and shake my head. “Don’t worry; it’s bound to happen during rush hour, right?” He chuckles with a twinkle in his eyes. “I suppose so, darling. Please, can I buy you another coffee?”  
My smile leaves my face, along with all color, I’m sure. “Oh, you don’t have to, really. It’s alright,” I stutter out. As he pulls out a plain handkerchief and wipes the coffee from my hand, he replies “No, really, I insist. It’s the least I can do. Besides, I was already thinking of grabbing one on my way home. I do believe it’s a sign that I should,” He pauses for a moment, a faint stain of color on his cheeks appearing. “And a sign that you should join me.”  
My stomach flips at his words. This is actually happening. My mouth opens and closes several times before I manage to form any words. I finally just shut my mouth and nod slowly. The grin that stretches over his face is astounding. “Wonderful! Where are you getting out?” When I tell him, he nods enthusiastically. “That’s the stop right before mine, and I know there’s a little coffee shop between the two.” My heart stutters at the thought that I possibly have been living just a few blocks from Tom Hiddleston. I try to figure out how to ask what I’m thinking, but he beats me to it. “I’m on my way home myself. A coffee will be just the thing.”  
The intercom starts with a bit of static, announcing my stop. I smile up at him and gesture to the opening doors. “Shall we?” He holds his arm out, allowing me to walk in front of him. “Let us away, my dear.” As we exit, a wave of passengers presses around us. I feel a warm touch as he grabs my hand. “Let’s not get separated, darling,” he murmurs into my ear. He’s so close to me I can smell his aftershave and a faint scent that somehow reminds me of old books. I close my eyes and inhale, delighted to use the crowd as an excuse to hold his hand tightly and stay close. My heart is hammering against my chest as we exit the station and walk toward the warm lights of the coffee shop.


	2. Chapter 2

As we walk together toward the coffee shop, Tom stops and chuckles. Turning to me, he smiles down at me and says “I’m so sorry darling, in the rush to get out of the train, I never asked your name. How rude of me.” I look up at him with a teasing grin. “You want to ruin the mystery?” He laughs that odd little chuckle again. “Ah, so I found myself a mystery woman on the train. But you see, I don’t want this to end the way those stories normally do.” I raise my eyebrows at this. “What do you mean by that?” He leans a bit closer and murmurs “In those types of stories, we’ll have coffee this once, and then you’ll disappear, never to be seen again.” He looks me up and down unashamedly and continues “And I’d very much like to see you again.”  
The bluntness of his statement shocks me into stuttering out “My… my name… Amelia…” He grins and asks cheekily “Like in ‘Doctor Who’, Amelia Pond?” I nod, swallowing the sudden burst of nerves that made themselves known. “Yes, like Amelia Pond. But I’m not ginger by any means,” I say with a wave at my dark brown hair. With a naughty grin he pipes up “Well, that just wouldn’t be fair, would it? For you to be this gorgeous and be a ginger?” I shake my head and roll my eyes at his teasing. He grasps my hand again, squeezing it as he pulls me closer to him. “Nice to meet you Amelia,” he murmurs with a smile, leading me into the shop.  
After we’ve sat down with our drinks Tom studies me for a moment. “So, Miss Amelia, what do you do for a living?” I swallow my first sip of coffee and reply “Well, I’m working on writing a book. But to pay the bills I do photography; weddings, babies, maternity pictures, things like that.” His eyes wide with wonder, he asks “What are you writing a book about?” I look down with a blush. “Oh, it’s… nothing, I mean, nothing you would be interested in.” I’m mentally kicking myself. Why couldn’t I have just said I’m a photographer? He scoots his chair closer to mine and elbows me playfully. “Oh, come now, don’t leave me hanging. Tell me, what are you writing?” I shake my head and giggle with embarrassment. “No, it’s really nothing!” The wicked grin on his face grows and he looks down at the floor. I’m puzzled by this, and it hits me a moment too late that he’s reaching for my messenger bag next to my feet.  
I try to grab it away from him, but those ridiculously long arms keep it out of my reach. “I’m guessing you’re keeping some of your writing in here?” he teases. “I’ll let you choose, either you can tell me, or I’ll just read it myself.” I try to glare at him, but that grin keeps making my lips turn upwards. “You’re horrible, you know that? So cocky, aren’t you?” I snap. He nods and teases “I have two sisters, believe me, I know how to fight dirty.” His tongue slips between his teeth as he chuckles. “Your choice darling; tell me or I’ll read it and find out myself.”  
I lean forward, my head down in my hands. “Alright, put the bag down and I’ll tell you.” I peer through my fingers and watch him set the bag down carefully. He leans back in his seat, an expectant look on his face. I sigh, making sure my hands completely cover my face before I mumble “I’m writing a romance novel.”  
There’s a long silence. I peek from behind my fingers, trying to gauge his reaction. His eyes are a bit bigger, but he’s not laughing at least. He reaches over and pulls my hands from my face. “Why on earth would you feel embarrassed about that?” he asks kindly. I hunch my shoulders a bit. “Well, it’s amusing to some people. And I always get asked if I’m trying to compete with that ‘Fifty Shades’ series.” I shudder mockingly. “I hope my writing is better than that.” He laughs and replies “My sister said it was laughable, that series. She told me if I got offered the lead in the movie they’re making to run as fast as I can.” I laugh with him, a little more relaxed now. “I think I have to agree with her,” I tell him, making us both laugh harder.  
He leans a bit closer to me, putting on the biggest puppy dog eyes I’ve ever seen. “So, can I read some of what you’ve written?” he asks pitifully. I shake my head firmly. “Nope, the deal was either you read it or I tell you. So I told you.” I stick my tongue out playfully. He glares teasingly at me before trying the puppy eyes again. “Come on now, just a little bit. I want to see what kind of writer you are.” It’s now my turn to glare at him. “This was your plan all along. You aren’t gonna rest till you read some of it, will you?” His lips quirk up into a smile and he wiggles his eyebrows at me. I slap his shoulder and laugh “You’re not fair, you know that?”   
He pouts and rubs his shoulder like I’ve hurt him, then his face perks up. “I’ll make a bargain with you,” he says, “If you’ll have dinner with me tonight, then I get to read just one chapter, just one.” My eyebrows lift as I consider this. “You’re asking me to dinner?” I repeat. He nods, taking my hand into his. “Please, let’s have dinner tonight,” he pleads, his voice dropping to a lower octave. My stomach clutches at his tone. This all feels like something I would write, not like reality at all. I look down for a moment, trying to gain control of my pounding heart. Then I look up at him and ask “What if you came to my place for dinner?”  
His face lights up at my words. “I’d like that darling,” he murmurs. I nod slowly, pulling a piece of paper and a pen from my bag. Quickly jotting down my address and number, I slip the paper into his hand. “Can you be there in about an hour?” I ask softly. He keeps a hold of my hand and holds my gaze. “One hour,” he repeats with a smile.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: there’s a hint of Amelia’s story here, but it’s going to unfold slowly. There’s going to be slight mention of her dealing with panic attacks, but won’t be written in a trigger-y way. But she will be dealing with these from time to time, so be aware.

As the clock ticks off the time getting closer, I’m starting to feel the familiar rush of nerves and shakes that usually lead into one of my panic attacks. Inhaling deeply, I force myself to count backwards from ten slowly. The Xanax I took earlier today is keeping the worst of the panic down thankfully. I grip onto the counter and focus on simply holding the edges. With a final shaky exhale I open my eyes. I keep telling myself that I’m going to be okay. My hands steady a bit and I think wryly that it’s a good thing I’m not measuring spices anymore, because I could have given us too much garlic with these shaky hands.  
The buzzer for my door goes off, and I smooth my hands over my jeans as I walk to buzz him in. I hit the intercom and yell “Hello?” I hear Tom’s voice reply “Amelia? It’s me, Tom,” and I smile. There’s a bit of hesitancy in his voice too, and somehow that makes me feel more relaxed. I press the button to allow him to come in off the stoop. When I swing open my door he’s right there, leaning against the doorframe. My eyes widen as I see the flowers in his hand. “I thought it only fair I bring flowers, darling, since I sort of invited myself to dinner,” he says with a shy smile. As I wave him inside I take the flowers from him and inhale the scent happily. The mix of yellow and white roses seems to bring a ray of sunshine into my flat.  
Tom holds up a bag with a local bakery’s logo on the front. “I also thought I would bring dessert. I hope you don’t mind.” I start laughing softly before answering. “Yes, I’m really going to mind horribly you bringing dessert. I’m vehemently anti-dessert.” His tongue peeks out between his teeth as he laughs with me. His voice drops to an almost dangerously seductive octave as he replies “Darling, I wouldn’t feel this connection to a woman who would deny herself the pleasure of pudding.” The slight emphasis on the word “pleasure” causes my insides to clench. I know he’s trying to tease me, but all I can think of is the lead character of my novel… the lead character that I based slightly, okay almost completely, on his portrayal of Captain Nicholls in “War Horse”. Except I give my character a happier ending, in more ways than one.  
I shake myself from my reverie and try to pull it together. “I hope you’re hungry. I made manicotti, and a lot of it.” Tom’s head tilts slightly, a puzzled look on his face. “I don’t think I’ve ever tried that, darling.” Then he grins at me, quirking one eyebrow. “But it smells delightful, and I can’t wait.” I motion for him to sit. “Good, cause it’s ready.”  
After we have filled our plates, it’s rather quiet initially as we take our first bites. Then he makes this sound that I could swear obliterates my panties, a low moan mixed with a hint of a growl. “Amelia this is heavenly,” he groans out. I barely keep myself from choking on my food, forcing myself to chew slowly and swallow deliberately. I know my smile is weak, and I wipe my mouth gently. “I’m glad you like it. Have you really never had this before? I would have thought you would at some point have tried this.” Tom’s head shakes decisively. “No, I’ve never had this; I would remember something this luscious and divine.”   
I clamp my thighs together. Is he choosing these words purposely? I’m not good at this sort of thing, so I don’t know if he’s flirting, or if this is just how he talks normally. The teasing glint in his eyes makes me think it’s a little bit of both. I try to reign in my raging hormones and enjoy dinner. Thankfully this is one of my better dishes, so it’s easy to lose myself in the flavors. It’s nice to watch Tom obviously savoring the food as well. Soon we’re laughing and talking easily together. I can’t stop myself from wishing that this would never end.   
After we’ve cleared away the dishes, Tom turns to me with an excited light in his blue-green eyes. “Is it time for pudding now?” he asks enthusiastically. I can’t help laughing at his question; it’s like a kid ready for a cookie. Raising one eyebrow I respond “I thought maybe I’d let you read one chapter first before dessert. But if you’d rather have your pudding, we can just skip the reading altogether…” His eyes narrow as I say this. “Oh no darling, you’re not getting out of that. I want to read something you’ve written. Pudding can come later.” Groaning playfully I turn to grab my notebook. “Fine, you can read the first chapter. But no laughing,” I warn him with a stern look. His hands fly up and he makes a motion over his chest. “Cross my heart, Amelia, I won’t laugh,” he says solemnly, but with a wink that disrupts my stare and makes me laugh instead.  
I hand over my notebook with a nervous laugh. The first chapter is very tame, mostly just setting up the story and all. I picked that one because I knew there wasn’t any major love scene in there. I don’t think I could handle letting Tom read a love scene I wrote. Hopefully he doesn’t get that the leading man is sort of based on him, I mean, on Captain Nicholls. ‘Oh who am I kidding? He’s totally the leading man, and he’ll probably catch it, and then he’s going to laugh and leave, and I’ll just…’  
I force myself to breath. I almost worked myself up into another panic just while he’s reading. Not a good idea; if I act normal maybe he won’t get it. I get up, supposedly to grab the dessert but in actuality to see where he is in the chapter. That way, I know when to take the notebook away before he reads any further. It looks like he’s almost at the end. ‘Oh good’ I think to myself. While walking back over, I see him at the end of the chapter and about to turn the page and start reading the next one. I snatch the book away quickly. “No sir, one chapter, that was our deal, remember?” I remind him, holding the notebook tightly against my chest. He blinks rapidly and shakes his head slightly. “Sorry, darling, I just… I got rather caught up in it. It is really well written. You have an amazing talent.”  
My head falls and I know I’m blushing horribly at his compliments. I hear him getting up out of his chair and he walks over to where I stand with long legged strides. His hand comes up to lift my head up so that I’m looking him in the eyes. “It’s true Amelia. You’re a wonderful writer. Don’t be embarrassed or shy about it.” The earnestness in his eyes surprises me. His hands come to rest on my shoulders and he smiles. “Thank you for sharing this with me. I hope you’ll let me read more soon.” He murmurs. My eyes widen. ‘Did he say he wants to read more? And soon? So we’re going to hang out again?’ I’m guessing he sees the expression on my face because he starts quickly saying “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just really want to see what happens. Maybe next time we have dinner you could show me another chapter.” He pauses, and then with a sheepish smile he asks “I’m rambling, aren’t I? Sorry, am I being too pushy about reading more?”   
I clear my throat and ask with a squeak “You want to have dinner again?” He smirks as he realizes that my shock isn’t from his insistence on reading more, but on his invite to dinner. “Yes, Amelia,” he says softly. “I want to have dinner with you again. Perhaps I could take you out to dinner next time?” A million different questions and emotions are flooding through my mind right now. I force myself to nod and whisper “Yea, I’d like that.” His smirk changes to a grin. “Wonderful,” he exclaims, “Now, let’s get to that pudding.” I start laughing at his change. This is going to be interesting.


	4. Chapter 4

I woke up with a bigger smile than morning usually warrants. Having Tom over for dinner was wonderful. Before he left last night, we exchanged numbers. I have a photo session later this morning, and Tom said he has a meeting with Luke going over some scripts and appearance schedules. He told me after he got done he would call me. As I walk into my kitchen to start the coffee, I look at my couch, thinking about him sitting there reading my book. My grin grows to what I know is ridiculous proportions. I’m standing silently urging the coffee pot to hurry when I hear my phone vibrating on my bedside table. Shuffling in to get it, I’m surprised to see Tom’s name on my screen. He’s really texting me this morning? I swipe the screen and laugh at his message. 

“Good Morning Amelia, darling. I hope you rested well. I’ll be stuck in bloody meetings, so if you feel like saving me call anytime. Hope the shoot goes well. ~ TH”

I can’t help chuckling like an idiot, swooning a bit inside at the notion that he actually sent me a ‘good morning’ message. I quickly answer  
“Slept very well, thank you, and good morning to you as well. Are you a morning person? We may have to rethink this friendship if you are. ~ Ami” I snicker to myself. He’s too much fun. Holding my phone in my hand, I walk back to the kitchen, desperate for my caffeine. I hope he doesn’t expect me to be perky when I wake up. Then I start blushing as I realize I’m thinking about him and me waking up together. God, I have got to pull myself together.   
The vibration of my phone jolts me out of my musings. I view the response with another grin. “Oh darling, I most certainly am a morning person, but only after my coffee. And it’s a little late to rethink the friendship… I already shared pudding with you. You’re stuck with me. ;) ~ TH” Instead of typing anything, I decide to do something to make him laugh. I quickly snap a picture of me glaring with my tongue stuck out. Sending that, I say “High price to pay for dessert. That’ll teach me to invite lanky British men to my place for dinner. ~ Ami”  
After I send that, I panic a little bit. Did I really just send him a picture of me with no makeup, bed head, and probably blurry eyes from not having my coffee yet? After pouring and fixing up my coffee, I walk into the bathroom and take a quick peek in the mirror. At least I don’t have smeared makeup and raccoon eyes. But the paleness of my skin and my freckles stand out like a beacon of ‘what the hell is that’, and I smack myself on the forehead. That’s not something he’s going to want to see. When my phone buzzes again, I steel myself for an onslaught of teasing. Instead, what I read makes my jaw drop and my breath chokes me.   
“Well, good morning beautiful. Looks like this lanky Brit shared pudding with the right lady. ;) ‘She's beautiful, and therefore to be woo'd She is a woman, therefore to be won’ said the Bard, and oh how true of you ~TH”  
I stare at my phone. Did I really just read that? Did he really just quote Shakespeare to me, and imply I’m beautiful? Trying to think fast, I do a quick search for something I can quote back that will be in line with this playful flirting. Finally one pops up that seems perfect. “Well ‘I will praise any man that praises me’, so I suppose a lanky Brit will do better than none at all, especially one who shares pudding so freely ;) ~ Ami”   
Now I’m just waiting for his response. I hope he doesn’t think that I’m weird, or creepy, or just stupid. I try to ignore the little voice in the back of my mind chanting that I’m all of those things. I can’t work myself up over this. Sipping my coffee deliberately, I take a few calming breaths. I jump slightly when my phone buzzes again. So much for me trying to calm down.   
“I’ll share my pudding with you anytime, luv, and share anything else you may desire. ~TH”  
I choke on the coffee that I just sipped. Before I can think of a response, my phone buzzes with a second message from him. “So am I allowed to call you Ami? I rather like that nickname. ~TH”  
This man is gonna kill me, I swear. I close my eyes and allow my imagination to conjure up the thought of him whispering my name in my ear as he holds me. Then with a smile, I reply “Such a generous offer… I’ll have to think HARD about what I may desire from you. And you may call me Ami if you like ;) ~Ami” I wonder with a smirk if I finally got to him. His response comes very quickly.   
“Oh think very HARD, darling Ami… ;) Luke is here now glaring at me for ignoring him. I will call you later this afternoon luv. ~TH”  
I giggle and text him back a simple “OK :)” and then turn to the task of getting myself ready. The shoot I’m doing today is a three year old in the park, so I need to be comfortable, possibly ready to crawl around in the grass. After I’ve thrown on jeans and a plain red top, I go in and put on minimal makeup and brush my hair back and secure it with a headband. There, that should work okay, simple but nice. On impulse, I snap a picture of my face now that my teeth are brushed and my makeup makes my look alive. Sending it to Tom, I text “So you aren’t tempted to make that first one my ID pic. ~Ami”  
As I’m checking my camera over and making sure I have my bag all ready, my phone chimes. “You know me too well, luv. It was tempting. But now it’s just my background picture… and my lock screen. ;) ~TH” I shriek in a mixture of horror and glee. “Don’t you dare… ~Ami” I’m already plotting on how to try and get an unflattering picture of him to hold over his head when he replies “LOKI’D!!!!!! ~TH”  
I type out a “: p” and send it back. But I can’t help laughing to myself. This guy really is too much fun. I head out with my coffee and bag, ready to tackle my appointment.  
A few hours later, I’ve dragged myself back into my place, dropping my bag and camera onto one end of the sofa before collapsing onto my bed. Not much can derail a photo session like a cranky child. I pull my phone out of my pocket after a few minutes. I had gotten a text, but never stopped to check it. “How goes your shoot? Luke is in a mood and I want chocolate. ~TH” I see that it was sent about half an hour ago. Enjoying the fact that he decided to text me even while he’s with his publicist, I type back “Two words: Cranky Child ~Ami” I sigh and roll my neck, trying to relieve some of the tension. Maybe I need a cup of tea. I slip my phone into my pocket and go fill the kettle and turn the burner on. The soft chime of my phone makes me smile even through the exhaustion and irritation. “Oh no, that’s never fun. I’ll trade you the cranky child for Cranky Luke. He keeps trying to make me focus and I can’t. ~TH”   
I laugh at the offer of a trade. “I don’t know that I could help Cranky Luke, lol. Why can’t you focus? ~Ami” I putter around the kitchen grabbing a mug and finding just the tea I want. His response comes a lot quicker than I would have expected. “Oh, I can focus. But I’m focused more on the beautiful lady I get to phone after the meeting, not on the meeting itself. ~TH” Biting my lip doesn’t keep my smile from growing. “But if you focus on the meeting, you’ll be done faster, and then you can talk to her. And she may get you chocolate. ~Ami” The kettle whistles shrilly, taking my attention for a few moments as I pour the steaming water in my waiting mug. Then I look at what he just sent in response.   
“Well, now that I’ve got her attention, I’d much rather focus on her. Thankfully we’ve just finished. Now I can go find my stash of chocolate… which I might be persuaded to share, if you desire. ~TH” His words make me laugh again, then blush as I remember our chatting this morning and the words bantered between us. Before I can respond my phone rings. When I answer, all I hear is a low moan, close to the sound he made when tasting dinner last night. Instead of a greeting, I just laugh nervously. “Is that how you greet people on the phone Tom?”  
“Oh, sorry darling, I just took a bite of chocolate. It’s too heavenly. I needed that desperately after the day I’ve had,” he replies. I murmur teasingly “Poor baby,” and he laughs. “Anyway, sounds like you had a rough one as well, didn’t you?” With a groan I say “A cranky, tired three-year-old with a mother who thinks he’s just too precious.” He makes a sound of sympathy and then asks “Well, how about if I take you to dinner, and we can both have a nice glass of wine to relax us?”   
I’ve got to stop taking a drink when I’m talking to this man. I almost choke on my tea like I did this morning. “You want to take me to dinner?” I choke out. He chuckles softly, “Yes, Ami, I thought we established this last night?” I laugh at this. “You’re right, I’m just,” I pause and try to figure out what to say instead of saying how flattered and giddy I am at this. “I just didn’t expect you to offer for tonight.” There, that shouldn’t sound too horribly silly. “Well, I am offering. I could pick you up around 6:30, if that works?” he asks hesitantly. “Sounds perfect,” I grin as I answer. “And then chocolate anything after. I need chocolate, and a lot of it, after today.” With a low tone that sends shivers through me, he replies “I will give you all you desire, Ami.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Amelia has a panic attack here. Just thought I'd give warning, just in case.

It’s 6:20. Standing in front of my full length mirror, I smooth my hands approvingly over the skirt of my red dress with a smile. Yes, it looks like I’ve managed to pull myself together enough to go out with Mr. Tom Hiddleston. As I take in my appearance, I realize with irritation that I’m feeling more nervous than I should at this point. Technically, it could be considered our third date. And with all that texting and flirting we did today, I’m beyond comfortable with him. Then my entire body starts shaking and I realize that what I thought was just simple nerves was in fact the start of another panic attack. I crumple into a ball on the floor, wrapping my arms around my trembling body. My chest heaves and I feel like there’s an elephant sitting on top of me, not allowing me to breathe. This one is the worst one I’ve had in some time.  
I’m trying to resist the urge to go take one of my meds. I want to enjoy the evening, not be a zombie or not be able to even have a glass of wine. But I’m not sure I can take it. I hear knocking on my door and Tom’s voice calling my name. Since I gave him the keypad code he was able to just walk on up. But I can’t force myself to stand up and walk the few feet over to the door. I grab my phone quickly, still needing to stay as close to the fetal position as possible. I send a text telling him I’m not feeling well, hoping he’ll just go away. I can explain it later, but I’m not ready for him to see me like this.  
Instead of him texting me back, I hear the door open. Shoot, I had left it unlocked, hoping to just call for him to enter once he arrived for our date. His voice rings out through my flat. “Amelia, where are you? What’s wrong?” My throat feels clogged and I try to clear the frog out of it. Evidently that’s enough noise to signal Tom. He walks into my room and immediately drops to his knees close to me when he sees me lying on the floor. “Darling, are you alright? Are you hurt?” The only answer I can give is to shake my head no. The look in his eyes confuses me. I don’t see irritation or blame. All I see is this warm light of care and determination. With one swift movement he has me in his arms and moves me over to the bed. Even though I’m shaking and can barely breathe, briefly the thought flashes through my mind that his body feels good next to mine. Of course the panic and edginess overwhelms that small instant of comfort.  
He lays me gently down and kneels by the bed. “I’m just going to get you a glass of water, alright? I’m not going far.” He hastens into the bathroom and I try to focus my thoughts on the sound of the running water, anything to calm down. When he comes back he places the glass onto my bedside table first and then places his lanky body on the bed next to me. Wrapping me up into his embrace, he pulls me against him, murmuring softly “You’re okay, you’re safe,” over and over. His hand smoothes over my hair tenderly, and I find myself slowly relaxing, breathing almost normally. My trembling has almost stopped completely. My arm tries to move toward the table, reaching for the water glass, but I can’t make myself stretch that far. I need my limbs close to me to feel safe. Before my trembling goes back to the violent shaking of before, Tom makes a soothing shushing noise and hands me the glass. “Here, I’ve got it,” he says kindly. I take it and gulp the cool water down gladly, taking small breaths between each swallow. The repetitive actions calm me down slowly, and I can feel the weight slowly lifting off my chest. I look at the clock and see that it’s only 6:40. Only twenty minutes have passed, but it feels like an eternity.  
Closing my eyes, I try to just allow the calm around me take over. Inhaling deeply, I whisper hoarsely “You smell good.” And he does; his cologne smells wonderfully masculine and sexy. He chuckles at this seemingly random comment. “You smell good as well, and you look fantastic,” he replies. I groan as it hits me that I’ve probably messed up my hair and my makeup with this episode. It’s almost funny what thoughts are hitting me at this point. I sit up and look across the room at my mirror. My hair isn’t really out of place, and since this attack didn’t include crying, my makeup is relatively unsmudged. I turn toward Tom, about to explain when he asks “Was it a panic attack?” I bite my bottom lip and nod slowly. His eyes seem almost sad. “Do they come often? Is it… Is it something I’ve done?” He has his hand cradling my face when he asks this, and I’m struck by his sensitivity. “No, no, it’s nothing you’ve done, I promise,” I reassure him quickly, “I’ve dealt with these for a long time. They can just randomly strike. I’ve woken up in the middle of one several times. It’s not you, okay?” I look away, embarrassed. “It’s all me. I didn’t want you to see me like this. I’m sorry…”  
He cuts me off with a quick motion, his finger against my lips. “Don’t apologize; you have nothing to apologize for. This happens. I’m just sorry you have to fight these attacks.” He slowly brings his arms around me again and soon has me leaning against him. “My friend Chris has dealt with this before, and I know it’s no picnic.” He tilts my face up toward his and asks “I’m guessing you probably don’t feel like going out to dinner then, do you?” I shake my head. Even though I’m over the worst of it, the residual feelings are almost like a hangover: I’m still shaky, weak, and sometimes cranky. And going out to a loud crowded restaurant will just make it worse.  
With a small smile, he asks “What if we did dinner at my place instead? I can cook for you this time. And it’ll be quiet, relaxed, just the two of us.” After thinking about it for a moment, I smile and nod. “I think that would be okay, if you’re sure you don’t mind.” His quick grin assures me that he’s perfectly alright with this. Then something changes in his gaze. With his hand still under my chin, he turns my head up a little more. His eyes drift down to look at my lips, and I inhale a shaky breath. Is he really about to…?  
His lips are about to fall on mine when our noses bump unceremoniously.  
We both start laughing immediately. The laughter releases the last bit of tension I was feeling. He shakes his head ruefully and grumbles “I’m sorry about that darling, did I hurt you?” I gasp out, still laughing, “No, you just bonked me!” My odd term has him laughing even harder, his lean body shaking with each roll of laughter. Finally we both catch our breath, leaning against each other and just enjoying the moment. I sure didn’t see this coming. Then he looks down at me with a sly grin. “May I have a second chance at that?” he requests sweetly. With a smile I nod before tilting my head in an exaggerated movement. His tongue slips between his teeth as he chuckles again. The smile on his face fades out as he holds my face gently in his hands and pulls me closer. I sigh as I feel his soft lips hover over mine for the briefest second before making contact.  
A sensation of peace overwhelms me as he gently kisses me. His hand cradles the back of my head tenderly as his lips part gently, his tongue slipping out and grazing my bottom lip. Without meaning to, I moan softly. His lips feel too good on mine. He pulls back and whispers “You okay?” I nod with a small smile that’s quickly covered by his lips on mine once more. This time he’s the one who moans. I slowly lift my hand to his head, stroking his cheek. We’re both lost in the feelings now. Soon he breaks contact and smiles down at me. “Come, darling, let’s get to my place. I’m sure you’re starving, and so am I.” He untangles himself and stands, holding his hand out to me. Taking it, I stand shakily. He stands back and twirls me slowly. “Absolutely fantastic,” he murmurs, pulling me close for one more kiss before leading me out.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Slight trigger warning, mention of abuse. No horrific details however. Just more of Ami’s story.

Tom has me all settled on his couch while he cooks dinner. His first concern once we arrived at his flat was to fix a cup of hot tea for me and get me comfortable. He took off my shoes and laid a soft cozy blanket over me. As he did that he muttered “It’s almost a shame to cover these up,” as he motioned to my legs. I had to chuckle at that goofy compliment, which I think was his aim. I was able to give him a half smile. I still feel a little shaky and hesitant, and almost couldn’t get out of the car. But Tom was so wonderful, rushing to open up his place and then hurrying me inside. I don’t know how he understands so fully what I need from him, but I’m grateful.

I watch him in the kitchen, cooking something that smells delicious. He’s singing and dancing as he cooks, making me smile. Every now and again he looks up at me and winks. His tie is off and he’s unbuttoned the top couple of buttons of his shirt. I can’t help staring at that bare skin lustfully, even in the midst of my subsiding nerves. Looking down at what’s left of my tea, I wonder to myself why am I even here, how did I manage to get to be here with Tom? I’m starting to find myself stressing again. Then Tom walks in with two plates of stir fry and rice. He sets them down, then makes a sound of irritation. “Forgot the wine,” he grumbles, turning back and grabbing two glasses from the counter. Sitting down, he smiles at me. “Are you feeling okay now, darling?” he asks gently. I nod my head, too busy chewing a mouthful of this delicious food. After I swallow, I manage to smile at him. “You are an amazing cook, Tom.” I pretend to swoon a bit over the dinner. 

He grins proudly at the compliment. “Well, between university and then being in random locations filming, I have picked up quite the repertoire.” He gestures for me to continue eating and starts in on his plate. It stays rather silent for several minutes, both of us focused on our food and wine. I can feel the shakiness easing off, my nerves calming down completely at last. When we both are finished, I insist on taking the plates into the kitchen and rinsing them. Tom put forth a valiant effort to not let me do all this, but I won, telling him to refill our wine glasses. For what I know is coming, we’re going to need more liquor.

Once I’m done handling the dishes, we head back to the sofa. Instead of taking my seat at the end, I wait till Tom sits, and then I grab my wine glass and sit close to him. He’s caught a bit off guard, I can tell. But he smiles and leans back with one arm around me, getting us settled nicely. I take a sip of wine, trying to prepare myself. Then I softly question “Can I tell you a little bit about me? I want you to know why I’m… why I have to deal with those.” His eyes soften and he places a tiny kiss on my forehead. “Of course, darling, I want to know. But don’t feel like you have to tell me. I don’t want to push or pry.” I smile at him, wondering to myself how he can be this perfect and be real. “I know Tom, but I,” I hesitate for a moment, not quite sure how to verbalize how I’m thinking and feeling. But I blurt it out in my usual manner, “I just want you to know what I deal with and why, because if we are going to have any type of relationship you should know.” I cringe a bit. Do I really have to be so blunt and tactless? Fortunately, this doesn’t seem to bother him much. With his hand stroking my hair and a calm smile, he replies “Well if that’s your terms and conditions, I accept. Please, tell me.”

Taking a deep breath, I start. “My dad died when I was around eight. And my mother… well, she was certifiably crazy, but no one realized it.” A frown begins on Tom’s face, and he stops my story to ask “Did she beat you?” Shaking my head quickly, I try to calmly answer. “No, she never did. But the verbal and mental abuse was very real. So I ran away when I was seventeen, left home and never looked back. But the damage was already started. It may be hard to believe, but my nerves are actually better than they were a few years ago. I was always so jumpy, so scared. Any little thing could set off an attack. I was, trained I guess you could say. I had been on high alert for so long, always afraid of having done something wrong again. I was on my own for a few years, and then I met this guy.” I see Tom’s jaw clench at this. I know I’ll eventually answer all questions and concerns as I tell the story, so I continue “He seemed sweet, and I was desperate for love and attention. So I ignored all the warning signs. I thought that he was just protective, not controlling. He was ‘madly in love’, not violently jealous. But soon, I was right back where I started, except this time he was physical too.” 

Tom stops my story here by wrapping his arms around me, stroking my hair. I’m shocked by the tears I see forming in his eyes. “Ami,” he whispers, “Darling, I’m… I don’t want to say I’m sorry, because that doesn’t seem like enough. But I don’t know what else to say.” Allowing myself to snuggle a bit closer, I shake my head. “Tom, you don’t have to say anything. Besides, I’m here now, away from all of that. It took some time, but I realized I had to leave. When I tried to, though, he shoved me down a flight of stairs. I ended up with a broken arm; it could have been worse. But that just screwed him over, because he got arrested and put away. Turns out, he was wanted for beating up a few ex-girlfriends in other states.” I chuckle sarcastically and raise an eyebrow. “I sure picked a winner, didn’t I?” Tom shakes his head at my joke, and I continue “So now he’s in jail, for quite a long time. I moved to England to start fresh. I started pursuing my love of photography; something I had been told by others was a ‘stupid thing’ for me to try. But I’ve made a success of myself. And now I also get to write, which I love.” Tom stops me again and adds “And you’re very good at that too darling.” I smile up at him and murmur “thanks”, and taking a deep breath I finish “So I’m still healing, I guess you could say. I’ve talked to doctors, and been given some medication to help. But it boils down to my system being stuck in high stress situations for so long that my reaction to any stress is amplified. But, like I said, it’s better than it used to be. And I hope it will only get better from here.”

Now that I’ve thrown that bomb out, I’m not sure what to do or say. I sit up, away from Tom’s reclining body, and stare down at my lap for a few moments before speaking again. “So that’s me, that’s my story. I thought you should know now, that you should have the chance to run.” His arms come around me and pull me back toward him. I feel his fingers come up under my chin, trying to lift my face. “Ami, darling, I’m not going to ‘run’. Why would I? You are a strong woman for surviving the way you have. And I do believe things will get even better, and I want to be a part of your life and see it happen, and be a part of that.”

I want to believe that. I want to believe Tom’s words. But how can I? Everyone I thought I could or should trust has let me down, in indescribable ways. And even though I know it is years of conditioning talking, I keep hearing a voice in the back of my head, that damn voice that follows me everywhere, telling me I don’t deserve this man, that I’m not worth anything. All of this must show on my face, because Tom starts almost pleading “Ami, don’t push me away. I thoroughly enjoy spending time with you, and I want even more. I don’t know if I have the words to make it clear, but I… I’m smitten. I was thinking of you all day, and over the moon with every text. You deserve to have someone love and care for you, and I wish to be that someone.” 

His words have completely floored me. But I can see the sincerity in his eyes and hear it in his voice. An image flashes into my mind of earlier: when I was crumpled up in a heap on the floor, Tom came, lifted me up, and held me, protecting me from unknown demons. He didn’t hesitate, just rushed in to help. He really did give the strength I needed, the care I needed. That memory makes the decision for me. “You really don’t mind my crazy?” I tease lightly. A smile lights up Tom’s face at my words. “As long as you don’t mind mine, love. You are with the God of Mischief, you know.” Our blended laughter sounds like sweet music. I lean up and kiss him softly, and then with a smile I ask “So do you have any dessert for us to share tonight?” With that distinct chuckle he answers “Oh always for you, love.”


	7. Chapter 7

Since Tom hadn’t actually planned on us eating at his house, “dessert” was getting into his stash of chocolates that he buys himself when he travels. He grins as he lays out the selection on the coffee table. “Here darling,” he murmurs, “Try this.” I reach out for the chocolate he holds in his hand, but he pulls his hand back teasingly. “No, no, darling, allow me.” I tilt my head and frown. What does he mean? He raises the chocolate and brings it up to my lips. Oh… I giggle and allow my lips to part slowly. The sweet candy tastes heavenly. I can’t help the soft moan that happens from the flavors. “Mint filling, that’s one of my favorites,” I mumble. His grin is infectious. Then with a glance toward his shelves full of movies he asks “Shall we just sit back and enjoy a movie? It will be nice and relaxing, and chocolates and a movie sound about perfect to me.” I nod, and tell him “I’ll let you pick, it looks like you have quite the selection.” He shakes his head and answers “No, darling, I insist.” He takes my hands and pulls me up off the sofa, catching me off guard. “You come over here and pick one.”   
The momentum causes me to land against his chest. I place my hands against him and immediately wonder why I decided to do that. His chest is firm and toned, and I find myself smoothing over his shirt slowly. I’m trying to make myself pull back a bit, but the only message my brain is sending out is along the lines of “HHHHHhhhhnnnnnnnggggggg” and I can’t move. The desire to kiss him again is starting to take hold of me. His eyes drift down to my lips and my stomach turns a little flip when I realize he’s thinking the same thing. One of his hands stays closed over mine to keep them over his heart and the other comes around my neck. I can faintly feel his heart pounding harder when our lips meet.   
This kiss has warmth with a hint of passion and tenderness, everything a kiss should be. His hand is holding me with just enough pressure to show his desire, but not so much as to hurt or scare me. When he pulls back, his lips are curved in a sweet smile. “Mmm,” he moans, “Mint chocolate, one of my favorites.” A tiny laugh bursts from my lips and I hide my face in his neck for a moment. He holds me close against his body and I relax against him. I feel so calm now, so unusual considering what happened only a few hours ago. With a kiss to my cheek he whispers “Come on, come pick a movie.”  
I scan the many options before my eyes land on one title and I squeal. “You have ‘Dirty Dancing’? Really?” He chuckles at my reaction. “It’s a classic, and I contend it’s one of the most romantic movies.” Pulling it off the shelf, I wave it triumphantly. “Then this is my pick.” He snatches the case from me and gives me a soft kiss on the cheek. “Wonderful choice, darling,” he grins. When he turns away I do something so cheesy I almost hate myself. My hand comes up to where he kissed me. For some reason, that little kiss means as much as that first kiss. Maybe it’s because it seemed natural, almost like something second nature. I smile as I curl up on the sofa and pull the blanket back over my legs. Once he’s got things set up, he lopes back over and sits next to me, wrapping one long arm around me and tugs me closer. Grabbing a handful of chocolate bars he grins. “Let’s enjoy the show, love.”   
We find ourselves quoting lines together and singing with the songs. He randomly unwraps chocolates to feed them to me. This has become the nicest after-attack evening ever. Our bodies snuggle closer together naturally, and I’m leaning back against that strong firm chest that had me so worked up earlier. He seems to emanate heat, warming me up completely. One of my ears is just right for hearing his soft heartbeat. That gentle rhythm gets me even more calmed and relaxed. As Baby crawls toward Johnny, my eyes flutter shut.  
Sunshine, bright sunshine, wakes me. My eyes open slowly, and every nerve in me reacts when I realize I’m not in my flat. I’m in a strange bedroom in a large bed. I lift up the covers and sigh in relief. At least my dress is still on me. It dawns on me that I must be in Tom’s room. Turning my head, I can faintly smell his aftershave on the pillowcase. I sit up and take in my reflection in the mirror across the room. It’s not horrific. I wipe small remnants of my makeup from under my eyes and then stand up. I want to go find Tom and thank him for taking care of me.  
I tiptoe downstairs slowly, unsure in the quiet atmosphere. I hear soft rustling and head to the living room. The sight that greets me sends a thrill and ache through me. Tom is curled up asleep on the sofa. He shifts again and sighs in his sleep. I stand and watch him for a moment, just enjoying the chance to study him. I can barely see that his chest is bare under the blankets and a vision of sleeping curled up against his chest flashes in my mind. Shaking my head, I decide on something that can maybe show how grateful I am for his kindness and care.  
I’ve been working in the kitchen somewhat quietly for about 15 minutes when shuffling footsteps announce that Tom is awake. His hair is all mussed up and his feet are bare, and I realize this is the least put-together I’ve ever seen him. “Morning darling,” he says, his voice still raspy from sleep. “Hey there,” I smile, “How do you take your coffee?” He takes the mug I just poured and shakes his head. “I’ll fix it darling. Are you making breakfast?” Nodding, I chuckle at his pleased expression. “As a thank you,” I murmur, “Thank you for taking care of me last night. For making me dinner, for sharing your chocolate, for letting me sleep in your bed… Thank you for everything Tom.” Blurting out all of this makes me a little out of breath.   
His eyes are warm and kind and he takes a long sip of his coffee as he rubs his neck. “You’re more than welcome, darling Ami. It was genuinely my pleasure.” I frown teasingly and ask “Did you hurt your neck sleeping on the couch?” as I turn back to check on the eggs. His hand freezes like he hadn’t realized what he was doing. “Um, no, actually, just a nervous habit I guess.” I turn back, about to ask what did he have to be nervous about when I really take a good look at him. Bare-chested, sleepy-eyed, in those thin cotton lounge pants, now suddenly I’m nervous. Then I realize I’m still in my dress and barefoot as well. I start chuckling and shake off the cobwebs, asking him “Can you grab some plates for us?”  
Once our plates are served, I hand him his and then grab my coffee mug. We sit at the small café style table and eat in comfortable silence. Then Tom looks at me with a funny little smile. “Does all of this feel rather comfortable for you?” I think for a moment, then tease “Are you asking me if I’m used to eating breakfast with men with no shirts on?” His eyes widen and he blushes comically as he looks down, as if just now remembering this. He’s about to hop up when I start laughing. “Tom, it’s alright, really, I’m just teasing!” He’s still blushing as he sits down again, but now he’s shaking his head and laughing. I continue “Somehow, it does feel okay. What about you?” That little sliver of his tongue pokes out between his teeth as he laughs and answers “It does, it’s rather nice. If this is what happens when I share my precious chocolate, I’ll hand over half to you right now.” I laugh and playfully kick at his foot under the table. Then a surge of… I don’t even know what to call it… comes over me, and I drag my foot slowly up his leg. His eyes flash and he grabs my foot, stilling it. “Careful darling,” he murmurs. I chuckle and gesture to his plate. “Finish up, mister.”


	8. Chapter 8

I growl as I stare at my notebook. For some reason I’m having trouble working on this next chapter of my book. Actually, I know the reason I’m having trouble. I’m writing the chapter where the leading man is heading off to war, and I’m trying to write something poignant and touching and, well, sad. But after the last several weeks I can’t really get into the sad vibe. I’m too happy. I can’t stop smiling and giggling. Especially now, since I’m writing a bit to fill the time till Tom comes over.  
Ever since that night when I fell asleep in his arms and he let me sleep in his bed, things have just been amazing. He’s been doing interviews and some appearances around the city, and I’ve politely told him that there’s no way he’ll get me to go to one, at least not yet. But every free evening he has we spend together. We’ve been taking it rather slow, so that I’m comfortable. Tom has been so understanding about what I need from him. He hasn’t pushed or tried to rush me in any way. In fact, the night after I stayed over, when he was leaving my apartment after dinner, he actually asked if he could kiss me goodnight. I had to laugh at that, considering how many kisses we had shared already. But I realized that was just Tom trying to be considerate. He knows that I still have my bad days, and he just tries to be there the best he can.  
I look again at my notebook, wondering if I should skip this chapter and write a reunion. But that’s not the way to go about this, and I know it. I start thinking about my characters, especially this guy. I confessed to Tom that I had modeled my lead after him and Captain Nicholls. He laughed for so long after I told him that I almost thought I’d have to find an oxygen tank for him. When he finally calmed down, I asked him what was so funny about it. His response floored me. “I just never thought that I would ever have a romantic lead based on me. I’m not quite the romantic lead type.” I huffed out a laugh and asked “What about ‘The Deep Blue Sea’? I know Freddie claims to not be a Romeo type, but you have to admit, you were a romantic lead in that, even if you were a messed up one.” We start laughing together at this. Then he pulled me close and murmured “As long as I can be what you need, my darling.”   
I sigh, thinking about that night. I wonder to myself if Tom is really ready to be what I need. Some days I can be strong; I can handle whatever comes my way. And then there are those days when I can barely pull myself together enough to make it out of bed. Should I really put him through all this? Looking at the clock with a sigh, I wonder to myself for the hundredth time if I’m being fair to him, if maybe I should just back out now. I go to check on the dinner I have going in the slow cooker. The aromas fill my flat and make me realize just how hungry I am. I’m about to sneak a taste when I hear Tom’s distinctive knock on my door. Just hearing that makes me smile and I rush over to open the door.  
There he stands with yellow roses in hand. “Hello darling,” he grins, “And how was your day?” As I gesture for him to step inside he kisses my cheek gently. “It was alright. I was trying to write today, but it’s not happening. I’m having a bit of writers’ block, I guess.” Tom frowns as he sits. “Anything I can help with?” I’m about to tell him that it’s nothing when an idea hits me. “Maybe… would you maybe help me figure out the goodbye scene?” The grin that breaks out across his face makes me smile in response. “Darling, I would love to help, if I can.”   
After we eat, we sit together on the sofa. I’m letting Tom read what I’ve written so far, so he can get an idea of where to go. As he’s reading I enjoy watching his facial expressions as he reacts. Finally he looks up and shakes his head. “I don’t know how you could possibly need my help, Ami,” he says slowly, “You’re a fantastic writer.” I blush and shrug my shoulders. He nods emphatically. “Darling, you are truly fantastic. I’m not sure why you need my help actually.” I can feel my cheeks burning brighter and I gnaw on my bottom lip for a minute before muttering “You’ve made me too happy.”  
His head dips lower and a bit closer to me. “I’m sorry, what was that darling?” I can see that teasing grin on his face and it just makes it harder for me to mumble again “You’ve made me too happy.” I look up at him and see his smile. His eyebrows are raised and he’s waiting for me to continue. “Tom,” I start stuttering out, “I’m trying to write this goodbye scene, and it’s supposed to be sad, but I’m so happy with you, that I can’t write this sad scene picturing this guy I’ve modeled off of you saying goodbye because I don’t want to imagine that ever happening to us.” My breath finally gives out and it hits me what I’m saying. All of my worry about what I’m putting him through by being with me, and I can’t stand the thought of him leaving. I start shrinking back against the sofa and bury my face in my hands. Maybe I’ve said too much.  
The room is horrifically quiet. I begin to panic, my breathing starting to be rough and labored. Then I feel Tom’s hands on my shoulders. “Ami, look at me,” He says calmly. I swallow and raise my head to meet his eyes. He smiles at me and pulls me close. “Ami, you don’t need to worry about me saying goodbye, understand?” I want to believe him, but again the old ghosts rear their ugly heads. It’s like he sees them appear because his arms wrap around me a little tighter, protecting me almost. “Amelia, please, listen to me. I don’t know how to say this properly, but I’m crazy about you. I won’t be saying goodbye. I know you have had too much hurt in your life, but I refuse to be a part of your pain. I told you before, I want to be your someone. You don’t have to be afraid that I’ll leave you.”  
My jaw drops as I take it all in. I try not to allow the old thoughts to take over. I don’t want them to drown out the wonderful words he just spoke. His lips land on my forehead and he whispers “Darling, I’m yours, and I’m always going to be with you. I’m not going to leave you hanging; I’m not going to hurt you. Please, please tell me you believe me.” For a moment I can’t even form words. So instead I just nod, and bury my face into his neck. Finally my throat calms down and I can croak out “I do believe you Tom, I really do.” I can feel his cheeks move as he grins. Soft kisses land on top of my head interspersed with murmurs from his lips of how he cares for me. I allow myself the simple pleasure (well, maybe not so simple for me) of just taking in what he’s saying and not allowing my usual negativity take over.  
Then suddenly it’s like a lightning bolt hits me. I sit up straight and grab my notebook and pen, barking out “That’s it!” I can barely see Tom’s look of confusion, but I can’t address it just yet. Scribbling away, I smile down at my paper. After who knows how long, I drop my pen and lean back with a sigh. “There, read that,” I say and hand Tom the notebook. Taking his words from earlier, I was able to write out the goodbye scene. And it was good, at least to me. Tom looks up at me and grins. “It’s perfect darling, brilliant.” His words make me even more excited. “You don’t mind that I used what you said to me?” With a shake of his head he leans in closer to me. “Perhaps writing it as part of your book will help you to remember them, and that I mean every word.”  
Inhaling the scent of his cologne at that proximity must do something to me. I bring my arms up around his neck and start kissing him. This seems to surprise both of us. Before tonight, pretty much any kissing has been initiated by him. But everything he’s said has just overwhelmed me. I don’t have the words to tell him any more of my feelings, but I hope this will show him. My lips part and I start nipping softly at his bottom lip. Hearing him moan causes any self control I had to fly out of the window. I crawl to straddle him, my lips never leaving his. The growl emanates from deep in his throat when I do this. His hands wrap around my hips and he holds me steady. I can feel his thumb barely touching the small bit of skin bared under the hem of my shirt, and the gentle touch of that calloused digit drives me insane. I grind against him and chuckle at the strangled sound he makes. He pulls back and gasps “Darling,” as he barely moves his hips against mine. Whimpers echo from both of us. He leans his head and starts softly kissing my neck and muttering “You are mine, all mine.” He brings my head down to lie on his shoulder and he starts playing with my hair gently. Nuzzling his neck, I agree “All yours, Tom.”


End file.
